Beauty In The Breakdown
by Ellarose C
Summary: Even when the story's over, life goes on. Continuation of the Baffled King/Idiot Hero universe.
1. Composing Hallelujah

{A/N: I'm back! Miss me? I know you did - and you totally missed my sprawling mess of an AU with _The Baffled King and The Idiot Hero _and _Wicked Twisted_ _Road_, or as I call it, the Hall universe (hahaha get it, Hallelujah). Anyway, as happy as I am to be done with the plot, I spent three years on it, and so I had more ideas than fit into the main plot. This fic will be the dumping ground for anything extra I may have to write, from crazy sex scenes to more chatfic to closing of relationship threads left open by the main plot. I probably won't update often, just when I get in the nostalgic mood, but I still want people to be able to know more if they want to. That said, here is my opening chapter and my entry into the USxUK Anthology Project, a near future airport meeting!

If you haven't already backed out of the window in disgust that I would drag this on even _further_ and ruin my reputation so desperately, I salute you.}

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**Composing Hallelujah**

**November 4, 2011**

A tall blond teenager, almost a man but mostly a college student - University of Arizona, judging by the t-shirt - bounces on the balls of his feet at the base of the escalators in the Tucson International Airport. He smiles at nothing and paces slightly in place, checking his phone clock between glances up the escalator.

Minutes pass, and he starts to bite his lip and tap his wooden heels against the tile floor. The slow flow of the Arizona airport moves around him, lives independent from his small struggle of patience.

The escalator crowd grows thicker with the occupants of an arriving flight. He perks up, watching the appearing heads with bright eyes.

_There_. Another blond, a different shade, hefts his backpack on his shoulder, jerks his carryon suitcase onto the escalator step behind him. His hair has the sharpness of a new haircut and his eyes look tired, but when his searching of the scattered ground level finds a beaming blond, they light up. He waves tersely, and the other gestures wildly in return.

He bites his lip and picks his suitcase up by the cloth handle, carefully dodging around the others on his escalator with muttered apologies as he walks down it. His greeter takes a few unconscious steps forward.

When he reaches the base of the escalator and jumps to solid, stable ground, he sets the wheels of the suitcase back on the floor and walks as quickly as he can without running towards the other, who laughs and meets him in the middle, grabbing him around his waist and picking him off the ground in a bear hug. The suitcase teeters, then falls on its side as its owner reaches up to return the embrace, burying his face in his neck.

"God, I missed you, Art." Art - the arriving blond - hums.

"Of course. Now let me down, Al." Al giggles and sets him back on his feet, only to have Art grab his collar with a mischievous twist of his smile and kiss him hard, Arizona mindsets be damned. Al lets out a _mfph!_ of surprise, then sighs and slides his arms back around Art's waist, returning it until Art pulls away, dreamy grins left on both of their faces.

"Y'know, you could have waited until we got home. Or at least to the car." Al relaxes his hold on Art, who lets his hands fall away, running down the chest before him in electric passing.

"Not on your life."

The loud electronic beep of the baggage carousel finally pulls them apart, and Al shoves his hands deep into his jean pockets while Art wrestles the fallen suitcase upright. They don't fully separate as they move towards the conveyor belt, bumping arms with each step.

"So, how was your flight?" Al asks, giving him some space when they find a spot to luggage-watch.

"Boring as hell. Glad to be here." He yawns. "I want a shower."

Al laughs, low. "Well, as soon as we get you settled in you can have as long of one as you want. Besides, you're paying the water bill." Arthur elbows him in the side, but not hard enough to hurt.

"We'll see if you remember that at the end of the month." Arthur smirks up at him when Al sneers, then frowns at the few inches height difference between their eyes. "Are you taller than before?"

"It's a possibility." Al can't stop grinning. "It _has_ been two years, after all."

Arthur glances down at his cowboy boots with a chunk of wood on each heel. "Or maybe it's the shoes."

"Probably the shoes, yeah." They stand in silence for a moment before Al slings his arm around Art's shoulders. "Gosh, I missed you!" He tugs Art into a sideways hug, ruffling his hair before Art pushes him away, yelling at him to get off even as he grins helplessly. He sees Suitcase Number One and pushes forward to snatch it away; Al steps forward to help. Suitcase Number Two follows soon after, equal in its enormous size, and as the crowds part to let them pass, Al jokes, "What'd you do, Art, ship a body over or something?"

Art kicks at him since both of his arms are occupied with handles. "Just be glad I didn't have any furniture to bring! That'd've been a fortune."

"This is very true. Well, c'mon, if we hurry I won't have to pay for parking!" Al takes one of the giant suitcases and heads towards the automatic doors, leaving Art with two suitcases and a backpack to carry. He scowls at his back as he arranges the two rolling pieces in the best way behind him and follows slower.

"Oi, you, slow down! _Some _of us have more to carry!" One of the suitcases flips on its side from a faulty wheel, and he curses as he fights it back into its proper position. Al chuckles and comes back, taking the offensive one from him with slightly excessive hand-brushing. Art scowls at him and sticks out his tongue. "You better be worth all of that hell getting that immigration visa, boy."

Al grins with a secret and leans in to whisper, "I know how to _make_ it worth it." Art flushes, coughs, blows on by him.

"Well, get me to this apartment you've picked out and you can show me," he calls over his shoulder.

Al flips his hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head and laughs, carefree. "Yes, sir!"

The doors slide open as they approach, and they race and argue over the first doorstep to the next part of the life together.


	2. Riviera

**Riviera**

**June 28, 2015**

When Alfred was deep in graduate school and Arthur was riding the high of his third book's release, they took a summer off to visit Francis. His parents had died a few years back - one from cancer, one from heartbreak (it was France, after all) - and left their only child to inherit all of their considerable fortune. Contrary to everything Arthur believed he knew about Francis, he didn't squander it like his parents had been wont to do, but instead invested the excess and lived alone in the family home in the French countryside.

That summer was when he was considering the merits and potential of nuclear energy, and although Al was an astrophysicist and nowhere near that field, he invited them over to get his advice and help fill his empty house for a month or two. It took some wheeling and dealing and a lot of sex to convince Arthur to spend that much time _voluntarily_ in the same house as his lifelong enemy, but in the end, he found himself sipping wine and sunbathing next to the backyard pool by June.

Then, one night midway through the vacation, it was raining and the three of them were drinking brandy in the spacious room with the floor-length windows looking out over the estate, getting properly wasted on good spirits. Arthur didn't notice how Al's arms spread across the back of the couch encompassed both of their shoulders, nor how Francis's hand stroked the other's bare knee below the hem of his shorts.

He left the room to piss, and came back to find Francis half in Al's lap, kissing the smile off his face.

He stared at the spectacle for a good thirty seconds, then cursed and walked quickly around the couch, its occupants still unaware of his arrival, and wrenched Francis back by the hair.

"Like fuck you're doing this without me," he growled as he pushed Francis enough that he could sit himself down on Al's lap and kiss Francis _hard._

It had been years since they had done this, but no one forgot a favorite bite, and their teeth scraped as Alfred gasped against Arthur's neck, holding him steady with heavy hands on hips. Arthur was craning awkwardly to meet Francis, who was only kept from falling over by Arthur's hold on his face. He gripped Arthur's shirt for balance, pressing himself close to his shoulder and opening his mouth wider. Arthur had a hand on each of them, crowded in and he'd never, ever admit it, but he _missed_ Francis's teeth, his nails. Francis tugged at his shirt, and Al helped him pull it out of his pants, and two sets of hands were roaming over his lower back, up and down.

He stood. "We're getting off this couch." Francis snorted, standing with all of his drunken grace, while Al grinned and took Arthur's offered hand, winding himself around him for a brief hot second before following Francis, dragging Arthur behind.

Francis led them to his bed - it was the largest in the house, which was precisely why it was his - and took Alfred from Arthur for a moment, tumbling down with him in a heap and dragging his hands down his chest over his thin T-shirt. Al giggled against his mouth and rolled so he was on top, pressing him into the soft down of his comforter.

Arthur crawled onto the bed, laughing to himself as Francis, who prided himself on being collected and controlled in bed, was turned breathless by Al's fire and acquired skill.

Arthur ran his hands up the back of Alfred's shirt, pulling it up as he arched a little into his touch, hummed into Francis's mouth. Alfred sat back to finish pulling it off, bent over quickly to give Arthur a peck that Arthur held in longer. Francis sat up with him to kiss his neck, softer than he was with Arthur, and Al laughed as the other two fought over him. Arthur kissed him harder to shut him up, holding his face and bumping Francis's forehead. He just nipped at Arthur's knuckles and wrapped his arms around Alfred's torso, tasting all of the neck Arthur had already memorized.

There were far too many clothes still on in the room, so they disentangled themselves and pulled at each other's buttons, the sad lack of kissing allowing Francis to open his damned mouth.

"Oh, Arthur, dear, I cannot understand how you've kept me away for so long," he purred into his palm, having caught his hand while his arms were locked by his shirt. Arthur's face grew hot and his mouth flopped open, but Al beat him to the response, sliding up behind Francis and gently brushing aside his hair to kiss the back of his neck.

"He was a little busy," he whispered, raspy and in French and Francis sighed and leaned into him. Al smirked and sucked at a vertebra. Arthur clucked at him and finished discarding his shirt, throwing it off the bed and shimmying out of his trousers before sliding between Francis's legs.

"Don't let him fool you, he's worn me absolutely ragged." He ran his nails through Francis's chest hair, down to trace over his thighs. He grinned. "But it's fun to share sometimes."

Francis's eyelashes fluttered too prettily at him, and they smirked at each other. "You're not the only one who's learned new tricks, you know."

"Hmm." He went in for a kiss, but turned away from Francis's open mouth at the last second towards a waiting Alfred instead, pulling Francis closer by his grip on his knees, up on his lap, trying to get more contact - whichever, just _more_. Francis bit his shoulder in revenge, ground his hips down. Arthur moaned, and broad hands reached forward and covered his over Francis's knees.

They were, after all, highly intoxicated, so they were sloppy, disorganized, falling over each other to be the center of attention. Al kept trying to pin one of them down for a full ravishing, but the one left alone never let him get too far without a distracting touch that would pull him away. Arthur was trying to hurt Francis and love Alfred at the same time, leaving a maze of scratch marks over both of them, and neither of them were sure if they were amused or turned on. Francis was finding himself in the unusual position of conduit - the vessel poured into, the object passed between them. It was nice, after all, to lay back and take once in a while.

They never "ended up" anywhere, constantly weaving and rotating, but cocks came out when Arthur was on his back with Al above him in his latest ravishing attempt, kissing him with too much tongue and not enough teeth. He wormed his fingers into Arthur's underwear - somehow still on - and grasped his cock with familiarity. Arthur's breath stuttered through his nose, and Al moved from between his legs to his side without leaving the kiss. A second pair of hands tugged and prodded his briefs down his legs, fingers dragging over his skin on the way. Arthur spread his legs a little at the wandering hands, soaking up the sparking heat between them all. Long and thin competed with calloused and broad, and then Al wasn't kissing him anymore. He blinked his eyes open to Francis dragging Al through the kind of kiss that had taught Arthur years ago - he wondered if Alfred could tell.

When both of them wrapped a hand around his cock and started jerking together, he stopped caring, head knocking back and hips bucking. He lost himself in it, and didn't notice when they stopped kissing each other and nudged his knees wider, one of them kissing his mind away while the other left, just for a bit. He wrapped his arms around the neck above him - Alfred, Alfred again - and thrust against his hand for any friction.

He gasped when Francis came back with slick hands and traced down, behind Alfred's hand. He tilted his hips back, but Francis kissed his knee and coaxed him up, promising with teasing cold brushes of fingertips. Al wasn't so subtle, worming his free arm under Arthur's back and lifting him up, rolling so Arthur was sitting across his lap. He was distracted by glaring at him when Francis took the advantage, pressing two fingers up into Arthur. He broke away from Alfred's mouth to gasp, but Al wasn't going to let him go that easy, nudging at his face with his nose to kiss him again. Al kept distracting him, petting over goosebumped skin and drumming his tongue over the sensitive spots on his neck when he couldn't kiss back properly because - _oh,_ he'd forgotten about those fingers.

Francis said something that slipped past Arthur; Al grinned and sucked at Arthur's neck, gripped his knees, tugged him forward and wider. He wrapped his arms around Al's neck and held him close, breathing hard into his hair and wincing as Francis spread him. Francis took to his dirty talk, murmuring a mix of French and English into Arthur's ear in pace with his fingers. Arthur didn't even notice he was moaning and jerking into Alfred, head spinning too much with the dual attention to want to stop anyway.

By the time Francis seemed satisfied with his work, Al had migrated up to his mouth and was rutting right back into him - but not too hard, not enough. Francis pressed _hard_ against his prostate, making Arthur scream into Al's mouth, then pulled out his fingers entirely.

"_Ah_- fuck you," Arthur panted, glaring over his shoulder at Francis, who smirked and scratched red lines down his back. Arthur arched away with a string gasp, ankles digging painfully into Al's lower back. He flinched and loosened his hold around Arthur's waist; Arthur took his chance and fell away from his lap, twisting to push Francis down and pin his wrists to the bed, growling as he attacked his mouth with teeth and tongue. Francis bit right back, latching a leg around him and thrusting up almost viciously, struggling and writhing - he wasn't going to make this easy for him. Al crawled over to them and chuckled, carefully prying one of Arthur's hands from Francis's wrist before it could bruise (not that Francis would really _mind_).

"Let's not be hasty," he said, deep and low, kissing the pad of his thumb. Arthur sucked a breath from Francis's mouth, rolled over slowly so Francis was over him and the arm Al held draped around Francis's shoulders. Alfred let him go, watched his hand curl languidly around Francis's shoulder as Francis took over the mean kiss, made it hard and wild. Al swallowed.

When Francis started to shift around to get between Arthur's legs, Al snapped out of his stare and grabbed his waist, startling him enough that he didn't fight as he was lifting back and into Al's lap, legs sprawled in front of him. He turned to look over his shoulder and got caught in a kiss, none of the venom of Arthur and all of the learned energy. He arched back, hand in Al's hair and eyes sliding closed.

Arthur rolled and slid to rest his elbows on his bent thighs, prickly until the end. "Alfred, stop stealing my fun." He shrugged behind Francis, still kissing him and holding his waist. Arthur's hands trailed up his thighs, fingertips, and he sighed back into Al's chest. Arthur's fingers traced the lines of his pelvis, his spreading inner thighs, and he could feel Arthur's breath ghosting over his skin. Alfred kept his head's attention with his tongue and his free hand against his outside cheek, but it was for Arthur that he tensed and rolled.

The tongue on his cock surprised him, though it shouldn't have, and he gasped out of Al's mouth. Arthur chuckled from below, and Al kissed at his cheek, the side of his neck, as he looked down at Arthur's smirking eyes. "What was that about new tricks, frog?"

"You…" Alfred tugged at his earlobe with his teeth, the corner of his grin against his cartilage. "You two _devils_." He wrapped his legs around Arthur as they both laughed against different parts of his skin.

"A month he's lived with us, and now he realizes." They exchanged a heavy, heated look over his shoulder, and Alfred reached down with his unsupportive hand to take hold of Francis's cock. Arthur slid forward to lick at it again, hands meaning to hold him steady and instead finding Al's legs instead, framing Francis's now. Oh well. He kneaded them, tilting his head up to lap higher. Both of the others were watching, transfixed, and he knew it.

Al arched forward, pushing Francis closer to him; Francis bent with it, one hand on the back of Al's neck, the other in Arthur's hair as he sucked in the head. He rolled, head back on Alfred's shoulder, chest up, air rushing into the sweathot space, the next inch of his cock sinking over Arthur's tongue.

The arm that had been around his waist left; he barely noticed, mouthing at the turned away side of Al's face, until there was a small sound of triumph, a squeeze. Arthur's wandering hands slid under his legs – better leverage – and his tongue curled over the underside just as a slick hand slipped behind and under, a finger slid _in_.

He bit where he'd been kissing. Devils, indeed.

Al stretched him like that for a while, shoving him up into Arthur's mouth to keep enough space. Two was better than one, sending Francis into his rare breathless place, sweat braking out and mixing with Al and Arthur and the air. His fingers clenched around the ends of both of their hair.

Eventually, though, Al got tired of holding both of them up, Arthur's jaw got sore, and Francis started to breathe for more. Arthur sat up, wiping his mouth with the heel of his hand, then licked Francis's open mouth, which was resting against Al's temple.

"Come, now." Al happily dumped Francis in Arthur's arms and scooted back to sit against the pillows, sighing at the support and smiling at Arthur. He rolled his eyes, then ran his hand down Francis's back to finger him open, humming.

"They boy stretched you well," he murmured into his ear, enjoying how Francis could only nod and pull for contact. He licked the shell of his ear. "He's about to do you better." He pushed his fingers back into his prostate, and he hadn't forgotten where _that_ was.

It was back to chest again as Arthur maneuvered Francis to Al, who pulled him in slow enough that they could keep kissing. Al rocked his hips against Francis's ass, teasing. Arthur guided Francis up to his knees, reached between his legs to steady Al's cock. Al shuddered, gripped Francis tight. Arthur grinned at Francis, who sneered as best he could. Arthur pried his mouth open with his thumb, pressed down on his teeth as Al lowered him, cursing religious figures into his shoulder. Arthur let him go so he could kneel over Al's trembling knees, hooking his other thumb in a mirror and diving his tongue in, capturing Francis's noises for later.

Al held Francis by the hips and circled them down, shallow at first, not wanting to dislodge this vision but then Arthur laced their fingers together and forced him harder, shifting forward until he bumped knees with Francis, kissing his neck as Francis threw his head back to _breathe_. Al bit his shoulder, the opposite side of Arthur, and thrust up as best he could. When Francis cried out weakly, Arthur grinned against his jaw.

"He's good, my Alfred, isn't he?" Al squeezed his hand, nudging both of them. Arthur knelt higher, making Francis have to crane up for attention, even on the thrust up. Arthur pulled one hand from Al's grip to hold Francis's chin still. Al slowed the pace again, busying himself with Francis's hairline as Arthur's voice poured over them, honey to a balm. "He's too lovely not to share, don't you agree?" He smirked at Francis from his inch away, then pushed his face away to grab Al behind him and kiss him hard, pressing against Francis from collarbone to kneecap. Francis gripped long fingers over his ass, kept him there as he turned his head to force his way in and make it a three-way kiss. Tongues clashed and tangled, noses bumped. Al slid back against his headboard of pillows, causing it to break apart at the seams. He picked his thrusting back up, and Arthur left his straddle to press against one of Francis's sides, keep murmuring into Francis's ear. Al was watching the slide and push and didn't want to hear Arthur sing his dirty praises, anyway.

Arthur started jerking Francis off – Alfred could tell from the new clench, uneven and ragged, like the heavy breath above him and Arthur's usual pace. Al's eyelids fluttered, wanting to see but going lax. Arthur bit Francis's neck, made eye contact over his shoulder. Al strangled on a cry and shoved deep, bruising as he finished, rolling through it as Francis rode it out, taking over for the last moments.

He fell down slowly, hearing but not listening.

"You're just as bad as you used to be, Arthur."

Arthur's laugh. "Oh, no, Francis, I'm _much_ worse now." The warmth was lifted away, and after a breath of afterglow, Al sat up to see the two of them fighting again, with hair pulling and double-jointed twists. Al was just impressed they hadn't fallen off the bed yet.

Francis got Arthur half-pinned, leg over leg and mouth at the hollow of his jaw as he played with him, danced long fingers over his cock, thumbed at the tip. Arthur arched, eyes wide – Al could just see it over Francis's now-wild hair. If he had the energy he'd climb over and help, but it was just as nice to watch them move and grind, know each other and exploit it.

Now he thought he understood why their previous shared bedmates liked watching them.

With a hard squeeze and a drag of calf on calf, Arthur came over his stomach, teeth clenched and nails leaving furrows in the parts of Francis he could reach. Before he could fall too far from climax, Al worked up the will and flipped forward, worming them apart so he could press Francis down onto the bed.

"Ready, buddy?" Francis snorted, opened his mouth, but Al cut him off before he could start an argument about 'buddy', kissing him softer than he'd intended. Shit, he really was tired.

But Arthur had always been faster than him, and before long he was crouched beside him, guiding his hands to all of Francis's buttons, encouraging him with slow words and hot breath. Francis hummed into the attention, too _too_ to be sophisticated, letting the duality wave through him and twitch.

He came with both their hands around his cock, stifling and perfect. They sighed and melted around each other, heads foggy and sated.

"I can't believe it took us a whole month to do that."

"Hush, you shouldn't rush perfection like tonight."

Arthur squirmed away from the edge of the bed, which was too close to him for comfort. "It'd be more perfect if we actually got _in_ this mammoth of a bed.

Francis chuckled, Al laughed, and they slowly migrated from lying perpendicular at the foot to properly under the sheets with pillows, even. Al, as the biggest, was put in the middle, and the other two curled into his sides, hands resting over each other on his chest. He sighed and nuzzled into Arthur's hair. Arthur smiled, settled better in the dip of his shoulder after a quick kiss to the neck. Francis loosely latched his leg over Al's.

In the morning, both of Al's arms were asleep, and they were all dreadfully hungover and sticky, quiet over breakfast. For the next few days, Francis not-quite blushed whenever he caught Al's eye (_he_ doesn't _blush_, that's Arthur's job, but if he was that type…), and Al and Arthur don't touch as much as they were wont to, but none of them _regretted _it.

And, after all, it set a happy precedent.

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{A/N: Another thing to be noted in this third installment is that things aren't necessarily going to be in order.}


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